


Your Lips Against Mine, And Us Against The World.

by moonlittnights



Series: it's a lonely, lonely world. [2]
Category: Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Can You Tell I Love Hickeys, Character Insecurity, Fluff, Honestly Corpse Is So Whipped In This, Hurt/Comfort, Implied Sexual Content, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Light Angst, M/M, Spin-Off, Sykkuno Holds His Trauma Very Deep In Himself And That's Just Sad, Sykkuno Supremacy Agenda, They Just Love Kissing Each Other, minor character study
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-21
Updated: 2021-02-21
Packaged: 2021-03-18 06:40:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,703
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29605395
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/moonlittnights/pseuds/moonlittnights
Summary: Corpse’s heart had clenched unforgivingly, like he couldn’t quite breathe, couldn’t quite live with the reality that Sykkuno had done this to himself. It struck him like lightning, the pure, visceral anguish he felt at looking at the scars.Struck with the desperation of wanting to make it better, he’d placed their intertwined hands on his chest, wanting Sykkuno to know this heart beat for him. It finally made Sykkuno look at him, and it was under his gaze that Corpse raised his hand to his mouth, brushing his lips against the back of Sykkuno’s soft, pale hand.Alternatively; When words fail them, Corpse and Sykkuno learn to love each other through kisses. As it turns out, Sykkuno's a fast learner.
Relationships: Corpse Husband & Sykkuno (Video Blogging RPF), Corpse Husband/Sykkuno (Video Blogging RPF)
Series: it's a lonely, lonely world. [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2177280
Comments: 6
Kudos: 354





	Your Lips Against Mine, And Us Against The World.

**Author's Note:**

> This is sort of like a spin-off of my other fic, sort of in the world they'd be in where they're actually/ already together. But I really do want to update my other fic, and I promise I'll get to it! Unsure when, but I have vague ideas of what I want to do with it. Until then, I hope you enjoy this somewhat light-hearted fic!

Kissing Sykkuno always feels like their first time again — always that soft, faint noise of surprise, body stuttering to a stop for a split second. Sykkuno had felt out of his depth the first time, and Corpse must have sensed it. The younger coaxed him into melting, lips brushing against his in a gentle manner that felt so uncharacteristic of his music. There wasn’t an ounce of impatience in his movement; it felt like he was perfectly content with them taking their time, patiently waiting for Sykkuno to relax and learn the feeling of being kissed by someone who wanted him to feel good, to feel loved. Corpse had taken his bottom lip into his mouth, sucking — and _oh,_ he could understand now why people spent hours and hours kissing. 

Eventually, Corpse had worked his way into opening Sykkuno up, tongue darting in to lick the roof of his mouth, and Sykkuno really did lose himself into the feeling, a soft, inquisitive hum slipping out of his mouth, a hand timidly reaching out to clutch on the fabric of Corpse’s sleeve. They’d taken it slow that night, and Corpse’s heart ached fondly everytime Sykkuno broke into shy laughter against his lips, tentative, nervous and eager all at the same time.

But Sykkuno is a fast learner, recovering quicker and quicker everytime they kiss. Corpse’s sidling closer now, large palm warm and possessive on Sykkuno’s waist. The other still goes pliant for him, lips parting easily, but he puts up a fight, tongue clever and wet and hot in Corpse’s mouth until Corpse has to break away for oxygen, a low groan rumbling somewhere deep in his throat. 

“You’re far too good at kissing now,” Corpse grumbles half-heartedly, and Sykkuno laughs, softly flustered. “That’s too much power.”

“I have a good teacher,” He counters smoothly, slender fingers sliding up to frame his jaw. It’s still soft, his touch, but not nearly as hesitant nor as jilted as before. It sparks an intense warmth in his chest, something physiological that felt a lot like pride, like love, like relief. “And fortunately, I’m a hands-on learner.”

It had been a real work in progress to get him to this stage. Corpse felt frustrated, not at Sykkuno, never at him, but at the world. At all the voices that had put him down and made him to feel unloved and unattractive. Voices that were crude and imposing, remarks that were said with blind and careless uncertainty that turned the older into a believer of everything wrong — Sykkuno is beautiful, inside and out, but they had shunned him for never quite realising it, for retreating into his shell unsure and timid instead of ever giving him a chance to bloom.

But Corpse is here now, and slowly but surely, with every reverent stare, every encouraging him, every loving kiss, he’d draw the butterfly out of the man, graceful and beautiful and surer of himself. 

“Hands-on, huh? I definitely have my hands on you.” It sounds so much like a Sykkuno joke, Corpse realises, and it does set the other man off into laughing. 

“That was a good one,” He comments, voice the kind of relaxed and airy that entices Corpse to no end, and he pulls Corpse into a longer, much deeper kiss.

—

The thing about kissing each other all the time is that they begin to learn what kind of kisses gets to each other most.

Corpse had lost his voice the morning (well, afternoon, really, because Sykkuno doesn’t quite grasp the concept of mornings) after recording his latest song, throat insistently parched and scratchy, painful whenever he swallowed. Sykkuno said nothing, something he was grateful about, but concern flickered in his eyes as he watched Corpse drink the tea he’d brewed for him.

“How was the stream?” He asked throatily as Sykkuno sat next to him on the couch.

“It went alright. It was fun,” He hummed, before careful fingers reached to make Corpse face him. There were a lot of unsaid words in his gaze as his eyes wandered, never quite holding Corpse’s own. 

And then he tilted Corpse’s chin up, leaned in and brushed the faintest of a kiss on the column of Corpse’s throat where it hurt most, soft comfort uncurling like a balm where his lips had made contact. Corpse’s eyes shut at the feeling.

“Mm.”

Sykkuno’s eyes darted to his for a brief second, and he must’ve liked what he’d seen, because he leaned down a second time and left a kiss on his Adam’s apple, this time with more pressure. It made Corpse’s spine buzz. Now whenever Corpse felt particularly stressed, Sykkuno would always make sure to leave kisses at the base of his throat, dulling the pain he would feel.

—

Sykkuno’s streams weren’t as long nowadays, to Corpse’s subtle delight and approval. It didn’t tire him as much, and they had more time for each other. But one night Sykkuno didn’t leave his room even as the clock struck midnight. Belatedly, as Corpse stumbled out of his own room, he’d realised that the other must’ve completely missed dinner as he himself had eaten alone before taking a nap in a rare moment of reprieve. If Corpse’s sleeping schedule was the more fucked one out of the two, Sykkuno’s eating schedule was far more of a disaster than his own. 

He pulled up Twitch, frowning at seeing that Sykkuno had gone offline four hours ago. 

He’d never expect to see the man with his head in his hands, sitting on his bed. He was the very pictured of dejected, exhausted and uncharacteristically vulnerable, clutching at his wristband with shaking fingers.

“Sy?” Corpse’s voice was soft and worried, and the other slowly looked up, eyes distant. He was like that sometimes, so far away in his own world, and it made Corpse unsettled. He needed him back to him, needed him safe in Corpse's careful arms.

“Sykkuno, look at me.”

Panic flashed in Sykkuno’s eyes as he finally looked at him — stuttered out his name in reply, and _oh,_ Corpse didn’t like that. He didn’t like that all, hated it. It felt _wrong._

“What’s w— are you . . What’s wrong?” He cursed himself for feeling so inadequate, slowly making his way to the other. Sykkuno seemed to shrink deeper into himself, and that felt even worse, made him feel like something had died in his throat and clogged his airways.

“Sykkuno?” The bed dipped as he sat, and this time at least, the other didn’t tense up. He tried again, the low timbre of his voice especially tender, especially quiet. “Baby? Hey, baby.”

The petname seemed to reach him, the other letting out a soft exhale at it. He raised his head slowly, but his fingers still clutched at each other tightly. 

“Sorry,” He finally replied, voice the wrong sort of soft. It made Corpse’s chest ache. 

“Don’t be.” He was quick to assure his boyfriend, eyes searching his face intensely. His expression betrayed his discretion — there was something very off, very wrong, but Corpse knew pulling his hair would be easier than to make Sykkuno talk about his feelings. It was a work in progress, they were a work in progress.

“Can I touch you?” He asked instead, a low, imploring murmur. 

He must’ve done something right by asking, because Sykkuno’s eyes softened further and he nodded.

He reached for the other’s hand, fingers slotting in between the spaces of the other’s. He stared at the wristband silently, while Sykkuno avoided his glance. 

He knew why he wore it now, unfortunately. Knew the tragic reason as to why he’d never failed to wear it, as adamant as Corpse is with his mask. It was one of the worst days of his life, seeing the scars, so violent and deep and jarring on the skin of Sykkuno’s thin wrist. Old as they were, they still marred him, a constant reminder of the nights he’d gone through. It was the most closed-off he’d seen Sykkuno, the dismissal in his voice too tight, too casual, holding in too much. Corpse had backed off, and the memory of the sheer surprise and amazement he felt after seeing Sykkuno’s expensive knife collection soured.

He knew all about self-sabotage. He knew all about pain. But Corpse had always been too in-tune with pain, and the thought of subjecting only himself to more of it made him feel bitter. Instead, it had manifested into lashing out, always keen to set the world flames so he wouldn’t have to burn alone. Always keen to make people feel the wrath and sting of it as well, making sure they saw what he felt. 

But Sykkuno had kept it to himself, wanting to handle and manage the pain all alone, finding relief of an unyielding pain through a different sort of pain — pain easier to handle, to lose himself into. He’d never wanted anyone to see him suffer, only needed it to let it out of his body somehow. 

Corpse’s heart had clenched unforgivingly, like he couldn’t quite breathe, couldn’t quite live with the reality that Sykkuno had done this to himself. It struck him like lightning, the pure, visceral anguish he felt at looking at the scars.

Struck with the desperation of wanting to make it better, he’d placed their intertwined hands on his chest, wanting Sykkuno to know this heart beat for him. It finally made Sykkuno look at him, and it was under his gaze that Corpse raised his hand to his mouth, brushing his lips against the back of Sykkuno’s soft, pale hand. 

It must’ve gone through the older, because his face faltered, breaths slower, and Corpse slowly, gently, reached to his wristband.

He looked at Sykkuno for permission — But Sykkuno wasn’t ready. No matter. Corpse reached to kiss the fabric of the wristband all the same, hoping the love he poured into it went through it straight onto the scars. 

Later on, Sykkuno had vaguely mentioned having a rough day on stream, and Corpse had only hummed lowly, the tone deep and warm and husky. He didn’t push, only reached to kiss the back of Sykkuno’s hand again, and let himself indulge in the soft flush on Sykkuno’s face, the other’s hand securely wrapped up in his own. In time, they would get better.

—

On a much happier note, he’d coincidentally found another spot Sykkuno loved to be kissed. One thing had led to another, and he’d found himself with a lapful of Sykkuno, kissing each other with a rough haste, desperate and deep and building with a frenzied pressure, the heat coiling in their groins making them stiff with want. The older man was especially needy today, soft little whimpers slipping past his mouth that frankly drove Corpse up the wall.

Eventually he had to catch his breath, fingers resting at the base Corpse’s curls, and to his amusement, still avoiding looking into Corpse’s eyes for too long. It drew a breathy chuckle out of Corpse, but he acquiesced, leaning to leave a trail of kisses down the other’s slender neck.

Sykkuno had done a great job at holding in his moans, but a particular kiss on his pulse point had his eyes fluttering shut as he let out a dreamy hum. 

Interesting.

Soon, chaste kisses turned into open-mouthed ones, and as Corpse nipped at skin Sykkuno gasped, hands flying to Corpse’s shoulders.

“Did it hurt?” He asked him worriedly, but Sykkuno shook his head.

“Stream,” He breathed out in a whispery voice, and something in Corpse felt deeply satisfied at hearing him like that.

“I’ll be careful,” He reassured.

Sykkuno nodded, worrying his lip. “My skin’s a little . . It breaks easily,” and _fuck,_ that little piece of knowledge shouldn’t excite Corpse as much as it did. 

“Are you doing this on purpose?” Corpse groaned, nuzzling into his neck, and Sykkuno laughed a little.

“Do what?” He asked innocently, but the statement cut into a hiss when Corpse bit into his skin, consoling the pain with wet kisses right after. “My . . my skin condition makes it sensitive.”

“Now I feel bad. Does it hurt?”

“No,” Sykkuno breathed out, eyes adoring. “It feels good when you do it.”

“I bet you’d look good with marks on your neck,” Corpse’s voice held a smirk in it, all suave and flirty. He knew it made Sykkuno weak in the knees.

“Y-yeah? But—”

“Yeah, yeah, I know. Stream.”

“Well . . If you aimed a little lower, and if I wore a hoodie, you know, I’m just saying—”

And that was how Sykkuno ended up on his back on the bed, arching into Corpse as the younger caged him in his arms and thrusted into him maddeningly, letting out sweet soft whines that spelled out Corpse's name into his ears as Corpse’s lips latched onto his sharp collarbones, staking his claim in the form of teeth marks. 

—

It went both ways, really — Sykkuno had Corpse dancing in the palm of his hand, always an exception, always special, always different. 

As Corpse stared at the masterpiece of Sykkuno in between his legs, hair perfectly tousled from Corpse’s hands, he knew he could die right now and die happy.

The older spared a furtive glance at him, shy but teasing, and licked his lips — and Corpse literally _groaned_ — before delving to plant a chaste kiss on the underside of Corpse’s dick, and hell if he didn’t collapse right there and then, head hitting the pillow. Sykkuno looked up again, eyes dark and heavy but radiant at the same time, innocent yet alluring, a whole fucking minx. Corpse said as much, and Sykkuno’s playful eyes lit up.

“Was that good?” He asked softly, before pressing another kiss on the tip, heavier, wetter, headier this time. He hummed around it, and Corpse grunted as he bucked his hip up involuntarily, fucking into his mouth. Sykkuno made a choking sound at the base of his throat, and Corpse apologised profusely, but Sykkuno had simply laughed it off before giving it another kitten lick.

“You’re going to be the death of me,” Corpse panted. Sykkuno’s lips shone wetly, as did the corners of his eyes. 

“Don’t die on me yet,” He merely stated, lacking the usual mellowness to it. There was a glint in his eyes, almost knowing, and Corpse’s throat dried. Slowly, he guided Corpse’s hands to lose themselves in the locks of his hair, and got himself settled again.

“It’s okay, you can lead me.” Sykkuno’s voice was soft and patient, but strangely Corpse felt little control for being the one with the reins. “Use me.”

“Yeah? Kiss me there again.”

—

The burn in his lungs forces him to pull away, relishing in the way Sykkuno dazedly chased after his lips before realising.

“If we go any longer . .” Corpse trails off, sparing a pointed glance at their groins. 

“You’re right.” It takes a minute for Sykkuno to snap out of it, blinking as he fixes his hair. 

“I mean, if you don’t mind a quickie . .” His tone is suggestive, already reaching to his favourite spot again: Sykkuno’s hip.

“I have to stream Valorant in a bit.” His voice is apologetic.

“Valorant keeps taking all my friends away from me, and now my boyfriend too?” Corpse grumbles half-heartedly, and Sykkuno crinkles his nose in amusement, reaching to cradle his jaw. Corpse raises his hand to eclipse his, fingers thick and long compared to Sykkuno’s pretty hands. 

“You can always rank with us.”

“True. But wait, aren’t you at silver 2 now?”

“It won’t take me long to demote.”

Corpse chuckles at that. That is so utterly-like Sykkuno, to prioritise entertainment and making people laugh over winning. Not that he isn’t already great at the game — He simply lacks the competitive spirit.

“No, I think it’s sexy that you’re so good at the game.”

“Yeah? Well I think you’re great at the game.” The implication amuses Corpse to no end, and he begrudgingly frees Sykkuno from his hold.

“As soon as you’re done,” His voice deepens, mouth pressing the words against Sykkuno’s neck. He feels the other shiver, knows that underneath his merch hoodie Sykkuno’s wearing that he’s completely marked by him. “You’re mine for the night.”


End file.
